The Emperor waved his hand, his expression grave: “I’m fine. No need to rest.”
“But the physician said it could take at least two hours. Are you going to stand the whole time?”
“Two hours is nothing,” the Emperor murmured, pushing him away. “I once did a handstand on horseback for a full two hours.”
The crowd: “…”
The screaming inside didn’t let up, and whether Hua Chun was doing it on purpose or not, He Chang’an watched the Emperor’s face go from blue to purple, then from purple to white, his brow furrowed tight enough to crush a mosquito. Every time Hua Chun cried out, the Emperor’s lips would twitch slightly, and sweat began beading on his forehead.
How nervous did a person have to be to look like this? Was it Hua Chun giving birth, or him?
Nervous as he was, he flatly refused to admit it. When Eunuch Qin brought over tea, he said with a perfectly straight face: “I’m not thirsty.”
“Is it that your hands can’t lift it?” He Chang’an asked, stating the obvious truth. “Your hands have been clenched stiff for quite a while now.”
“No,” the Emperor said, his face dark. “Never mind me. I don’t want to drink tea!”
Eunuch Qin’s eyes were full of concern—he wished he could hold up a mirror for him to see! Your lips are already peeling, Your Majesty, and you’re still saying you’re not thirsty?
Everyone had originally been worrying about the Empress inside the room, but before long, all their attention had shifted entirely to the Emperor.
It was the first time anyone had seen the Emperor so utterly at a loss. Though he tried hard to control himself, the stiffness in his face and body was too obvious—obvious enough that even the dullest old officials noticed, hurrying over with cupped hands to say: “Her Highness has the fortune of the virtuous, Your Majesty need not worry so much. Your own illness hasn’t fully recovered either.”
“You’re all being tiresome,” Yuwen Jie frowned. “I already said I’m fine.”
The old official fell silent, glanced at the Emperor twice, and obediently retreated to the side.
Hua Chun didn’t dare cry out anymore. Following the midwife’s instructions, she began taking deep breaths, pushing along with the rhythm of her guiding hand.
The room fell silent for a moment. Yuwen Jie’s pupils constricted, and he glared at the physician nearby: “Has she given birth?”
“Not yet,” the physician said, backing away while shaking his head.
“Then why is there no sound?!”
“Her Highness is conserving her strength, to help the imperial heir arrive safely.”
Relieved, the Emperor’s expression softened somewhat: “So that means nothing will go wrong?”
Physician Feng pressed his lips together and said seriously: “This is the most dangerous stage.”
The body that had just begun to relax tensed up again immediately. The Emperor’s eyes reddened, and He Chang’an, quite without sympathy, curved his lips at the sight.
Yuwen Jie had always been a domineering, overbearing emperor—seeing him now so utterly helpless made people want to tease him! He didn’t know if Physician Feng felt the same, but watching a lion cower and panic like a kitten really was rather amusing.
The Emperor began pacing circles in the courtyard again. Before long, Rui’er came out from the room, her expression grave as she looked at the Emperor: “Your Majesty, the midwife says Her Highness’s situation is very dangerous right now. She sent me to ask—do you wish to save the mother or the child?”
“What?” Yuwen Jie’s eyes went wide, startling Rui’er into stepping back. She repeated quietly: “In the current situation, only one of Her Highness and the imperial heir can survive. If you want the heir…”
“What heir, are you out of your mind!” Yuwen Jie shouted, his face pale, shoving her back toward the room. “Save the mother! No matter what, your lady must be kept safe!”
“But… the midwife says this child is very likely a prince,” Rui’er said, turning back to look at him. “Does Your Majesty really not want him either?”
“Even if it were twin dragon-and-phoenix heirs, I don’t want them,” the Emperor said, pressing his lips together, his tone earnest. “Nothing is more important than your lady.”
Rui’er’s face lit up, and she broke into a grin. At that very moment, a “waah” sound came from inside the room.
It was a baby’s cry.
“She’s given birth!” He Chang’an gave a light jump, delighted, and hugged the physician beside him. Everyone around them knelt down as well, shouting congratulations to the Emperor.
Yuwen Jie stood at the doorway, his whole body feeling as though his blood had frozen solid. The baby’s cry echoed in his ears, and it took him a long while before he looked down at Rui’er: “…She’s given birth?”
Rui’er smiled and nodded: “Yes, she’s given birth.”
“Then what about Hua Chun?” His gaze was blank, his hand gripping her wrist so hard, his eyes bloodshot: “Didn’t I say to save the mother? How dare you save the heir first?!”
“…Your Majesty, please let this servant explain, this…” Rui’er faltered, stammering for a while without managing to get the truth out clearly. The Emperor had already thrown her aside and rushed into the birthing chamber.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty, many congratulations!” the midwife said, beaming as she held the baby. “It’s a prince!”
Without even glancing at the swaddled infant, the Emperor rushed straight to the bedside.
The person on the bed had a face utterly pale, lips so white they looked almost transparent, sweat covering her forehead, one hand hanging limp over the edge of the bed, no sign of breath in her at all.
He reached out and placed his hand beneath her nose. For a long while, he felt no breath.
The Emperor’s whole body shook, and he sank down at the bedside, tears welling up in his bloodshot eyes, falling in large drops onto Hua Chun’s hand.
“Your… Your Majesty?”
“All of you, get out,” he said hoarsely, exhausted beyond measure. “I want to be alone with her for a while.”
“Yes.” Casting him an odd glance, the midwife carried the prince off to find a wet nurse. Rui’er blinked a couple of times before following the others out and closing the door.
Knowing that Hua Chun had given birth to a prince, cheers erupted outside the door, and amid those cheers, the Emperor’s entire face visibly aged before everyone’s eyes.
“Are you a fool… why didn’t you stop them? I said to save the mother, not the child—I was just talking, why did you take it seriously…”
“Is giving birth especially painful? Let’s not have any more children after this. From now on, I’ll treat you well, I won’t deliberately say things to anger you anymore.” Tears fell one after another. Yuwen Jie’s icy, cold-faced composure had completely crumbled. Gripping Hua Chun’s cold hand, he choked out, barely able to speak: “I… was wrong.”
“Hua Chun… Hua Jinghua… open your eyes and look at me, look at me. You’re such a clever person—how could having a child take you away like this? Even the King of Hell wouldn’t dare take you…”
No matter what he said, the person on the bed showed no response. Yuwen Jie was in despair, reaching out to embrace Hua Chun’s “body,” choking on his tears.
“Do you know? Lately I’ve often had strange dreams—dreaming that you and I knew each other in a past life, that there’s a bond from a previous existence between us. If the bond runs this deep, how could it end just like this, in this life? Wake up, and I’ll tell you what’s in my heart. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you. I won’t say one thing and mean another anymore. I’ll speak properly, say the things you like to hear…”
“Don’t leave me alone…”
“Thump—thump—”
Just as he was pouring his heart out with deep emotion, he suddenly heard a small sound.
It was a heartbeat—or rather, two heartbeats.
Startled slightly, Yuwen Jie’s expression froze, and he looked down.
The person in his arms was trying hard to keep up the pretense of being deeply asleep, but damn it, her chest was clearly rising and falling!